229 of his own heart, and breathed the odour of dust and horse- hair. Miss Burnham was a long time in coming. She came at last, moving toward him with a skirring sound of her black- silk skirts and with her head bobbing nervously forward on her long neck as though in a scarcely restrained and irritable asseveration. He waited, holding his hat in his hands before him, and she moved directly at him, as though she did not see him, or as though he were not there at all, and then stopped in front of him with the air of one who is startled at an obstruction. She said, "Good morning, Mr. Munn." Her head continued to jerk slightly back and forth with a painful, mechanical motion, like a metronome asserting a rhythm that had nothing to do with the events about her, "Good morning," Mr. Munn responded. She did not ask him to sit down, and made no motion toward a chair. She continued to stand directly in front of him. "I'm sorry to have troubled you," he apologized, after waiting. "I reckon the girl didn't understand me. I asked if I could see May." " She did not misunderstand you," Miss Burnham said. "Well," Mr. Munn began, and hesitated. "I don't want to trouble you. I just wanted to speak to May." Under the necessity of her gaze, and the small regular jerking of her head, he continued: "You know, we had a—a misunder- standing, and I wanted to talk to her. It's not serious. That is, it shouldn't be-----" That abstracted gaze and that movement of her head were unchanged. His voice trailed ofi. "You may not see my niece," she affirmed. "Isn't she here? I thought-----" "She is here," Miss Burnham said. "She is here?" "But it is not possible for you to see her," "It's important," Mr. Munn asserted, his tone rising. "I have to see her,"